Waiting on You
by LillSakura
Summary: Clark, mucking around in Smallville, is suddenly forced from his comfort zone by none other than Lex Luthor. A typical day in the life of Mr. Clark Kent.
1. Part I

Written for the Clexfest, Clark and Lex meet with one or the other being a waiter.  
The disclaimer: I don't own Smallville.  
Summary: Clark, mucking around in Smallville, is suddenly forced  
from his comfort zone by none other than Lex Luthor. A typical day  
in the life of Mr. Clark Kent.

Waiting on You: Part I

It started with a casual glance, a quick smile, a skip in his heart   
beat. The sudden rightness captured him off guard. The room seemed  
to hum- as if singing a tune to a familiar song- and the   
overwhelming urge to smile or laugh or act startled him, forcing an  
unconscious decision to blush. An immediate response, an amused  
smile, now shined on the man's face; it was the only indication  
Clark was not imagining things.

A bump on his shoulder knocked him back into reality, jolting away  
the resonate, and the intensity of the blue eyes fled Clark's mind  
as his concentration now rushed to the piercing green eyes demanding   
his attention.

He looked at Chloe, eyes sneaking a look at the man and then back to  
Clark. She tilted her chin up, alight with knowledge. He barely  
suppressed a groan; of course, she knew, she always knew. His best  
friend since eighth grade, he would be astonished if her killer  
journalist instincts missed one detail about him.

"Batting your eye lashes will not get you your car, Clark-Bar." And,  
of course, being her best friend since eighth grade, there were few  
things he missed about her. The alarming jealousy in string of words  
strung through, never so pronounced. She loved him, and she was not  
about to have him falling head over feet for some stranger.

Glancing back at the mysterious man, Clark laughed, "I don't know,  
if that Armani says anything, I'd say he has a Lamborghini up his  
sleeve somewhere."

" There's a thick layer of flannel separating you and Mr. Metropolis  
over there." The illuminated protectiveness radiating from her eyes  
vaporized the harshness of the words.

He grinned at her, gently ruffling her hair with his hand, "C'mon,  
Chlo', let a boy dream. Maybe he'll take me outta here and give me a  
castle or two."

She rolled her eyes, backing away from his pestering hand. She gave  
the man a once over, judging everything and thriving on her  
intuition, "Just what you need, a prince charming to suppress your  
natural rights. He'd probably chuck the keys to those castles in  
lake, and then where would you be?"

The tiniest of smiles struck at the corner of her mouth, ruining the  
abrupt facade of indignity.

"M'dear, I will always have you to save me." He sent her a wild  
grin, and she returned it with a laugh.

"A slight change for the better, I can't have that hero-thing going  
to your head." Just being able to hear her say that, without the   
tense awkward silence trailing behind, made Clark suddenly feeling  
light and happy.

The smooth comfortable banter had taken months to rectify. After a  
series of dates, love announcements, and revealed secrets, Clark was  
not sure he would ever get his Chloe back. The awkward silences,  
disastrous arguments, and outrageous accusations, nearly shook their   
relationship beyond the saving point.

Once the tears settled and the wounds scarred, they tentatively  
began to talk, progressing finally into a stronger friendship.  
(Plus, now Chloe had more mutant action to report on, since Clark  
was usually in the middle of it. Even in the last couple of days, he  
had managed to save a roaming driver from Lake Mutant Molly, who  
kidnapped anyone who turned her down for "a slippery surprise.") 

"Hey! Kent, table five needs more water." The brunt, direct voice of  
the manager, "Mr. Joe to you," cut through their teasing. Mr. Joe's  
voice became distinctively lighter, friendlier, "Chloe, dear, I need  
you to cover for Meghan, she's takin' a lunch."

"Yes, Mr. Joe!" She chimed at him, a plastic grin plastered so tight  
it ached.

"Chloe, you're my best employee; there's no "Mr." needed. It's just  
Joe." He tossed her a wink, his murky brown eyes leering at her.

Clark watched as the short stature of the manager disappeared into  
the crowd. He began snickering and using an exaggerated southern  
accent he swooned, "Oh Chloe! Ma best employee! The shinnin' star in  
ma night sky! The only star in ma dreams! And oh-uff."

He would have continued his ode, but the blonde had shoved a tray  
into his arms.

"Shut up. Don't make me ask Joe to have you making coffee for the  
rest of the week." An inside joke, well worn, and down to the last  
threads. Every time Clark went near the coffee maker, he had a  
sudden sick feeling spread through his body, almost to a point where  
he could not function his body. Chloe had noticed, concerned at  
first, and then a teasing joke of the invulnerable man not being  
able to handle coffee.

"Ai, ai, Ma'am." They shared a grin, now noticing the hustle and   
bustle of the restaurant began kicking up for the lunch hour. With  
the orders of Mr. Joe and the tedious and bothersome joys of serving  
and waiting pending their tending, the two friends separated unaware  
of the crystal blue eyes watching their banter. 

The man gave a thoughtful smile, tossed a twenty on the table and  
left. It would cover his order and leave an obscene tip for his  
waitress. He had decided.

Clark had not expected to see the man again. A well dressed, smooth  
talking, metropolis man was a rare find in Smallville. Even with a  
baldhead, the man held himself with such regard as to suggest a  
clear superiority among the crowds. He wreaked of power, an essence  
so bombarding it set even the most unmotivated employee scurrying  
away. 

So, it completely floored Clark to learn the man had applied for a  
job. No, not the managing job, but rather a waiting job, and of  
course the man was hired. Rather than feel suddenly cheerful about  
it, Clark stomach took a sudden plummet. Never one to ignore his  
guts' reaction, Clark instantly staked out Chloe. If anyone knew why  
this intimidating man was working here, she would.

"I don't know."

So, maybe she would not know. Clark looked at her, really seeing  
her. Worrying her glossed lips and pushing back her cropped hair,  
the idea of not knowing was tearing Chloe apart, considerably if  
visual appearances branded themselves on her. It was days like  
these, where Chloe fell back to human level, to wear things did  
affect her, where she didn't have all the answers, that made Clark  
remember why she was so endeared into his heart.

"He's Lex Luthor of the Luthor Enterprises. Worth 2.2 billion  
dollars, and being paid 4.50 plus tips. He denied a position at  
LuthorCorp, packed his bags, and here he is. Maybe Lionel disowned  
him? But that does not explain why he is in Smallville, you know,  
home of the corn, meteorites, and cows. Clark. We are working with  
the Lex Luthor, and I don't know why." The comment rather tore her  
up; there was no doubt about that.

"Actually, I'm worth 2.67 Billion." Smooth, piercing, blunt,  
powerful. Also eavesdropping on the conversation.

Chloe's eyes flashed at a point behind Clark, marking her prey. It  
was a look Clark had seen when they were in working at the Torch, a  
look Clark rather not get in the way of. Stepping out of the way,  
Clark pivoted to see Lex Luthor standing prime and dignified.

The intense blue eyes focused on Clark, taking in his body,  
lingering on his eyes, before the blue eyes trailed back over to  
Chloe. "As of this morning."

Clark, having had Martha and Jonathan Kent (the latter only  
affecting the childhood years) furnish their morals into him,  
started, "Sorry, I'm Clark Kent, and this is Chloe Sullivan."

"Lex Luthor." He gutted out a hand, offering partnership,  
friendship, a pleasant working environment. 

Before Clark had a chance to shift, Chloe had grabbed the offered  
hand, in spite of the intended target. Chloe, a hawk with a  
predator's eye, had just sunk her talons into Lex, and there was no  
way she was letting go until she was full and content. Lex had no  
idea what he was getting himself into.

Before he could be an accomplice to Chloe's machinations (or what  
she calls "getting the scoop"), Clark made up a quick excuse to   
leave, abandoning Lex with the harassing-- "scooping" --Chloe.

"What brings you to Smallville? Relatives? Scenery? You know,  
there's not much out here that could compare to the city life..."

Clark almost felt guilty. 

Clark never conversed about Chloe's interrogation of Lex, but he  
knew it had to be successful because she had stopped pouting. She  
attempted to enlighten him about it, but every time she opened her  
mouth, he made an excuse to abscond. 

In fact, Clark had been managing the "disappearing act" more and  
more. In the four months Lex had worked at the Beanery, he may have  
run into Clark twenty or thirty times, and the total amount of words  
passed may have added up to 500. The busy work environment kept  
Clark clean of his city prince, and therefore kept Clark clean of  
making a fool of himself. His pretty-eyed colleague could be  
charming and breathtaking, as long as he kept his distance.

Years of the "Lana Lang Trailing" had tattered Clark's heart. In  
truth, he discovered people were never who they appeared. Lana, with  
her dazzling russet eyes, pledged a perfect world, and yet she was  
unattainable, ensnared in her mourning. She lured Clark in with her  
normality, a bittersweet escape from the obscene mutants running  
around. For all that she was pure and beautiful, she remained caged  
in her world, and only an ideal man could have her, and Clark life  
had allocated him his share of mutations.

The mutations had also taken its toll on Clark. Very few people had  
earned the privilege to know about Clark's powers, Chloe being the  
most recent. Although Smallville was crowded with mutations, nearly  
1/8 of the population, the tolerance level was minimal, and mostly  
they went by ignored. So ignored that when a few randomly went  
missing, only a handful of people noticed, and none of those people  
commented. With these escalating prejudices forming over the past  
years, Clark was very wary of his "abilities" and who to trust them  
with. 

Walking into the Beanery, a slow Monday morning, he noticed the only  
other employee opening was Lex. Resigning himself from the pedestal  
about to fracture, Clark put a courageous foot forward.

Only, he had not bothered for such dramatics, because Lex barely  
acknowledged his company. In fact, Clark could have been a fly for  
all the attention Lex gave him. He was not sure whether to be upset  
or grateful.

The trepidation, the intimidation, the worry, was all naught.  
Whatever had clicked between the two of them the day Lex entered the  
Beanery had surely snapped, leaving nothing left to hope on. It was  
almost comforting. If Lex did not like him, there was no reason for  
Lex to fall off his pedestal.

"Start the coffee, would you?" The casual over glance, as Lex  
started setting the napkins at the tables, did wonders for Clark's  
ease.

At least now, he knew Lex and Chloe did not discuss him, as the  
coffeemaker was one of the first things she warned their associates  
about. Putting the slight dread aside, Clark quickly did as he was  
told. The sudden sickness came and went as he distanced himself from  
the machine, making the five-minute chore a prolonged ten-minute  
trail. 

Finally, he finished, and he began the morning routine. It was dull  
and bland, leaving nothing to the imagination. Everything came  
prepackaged, so there was nothing excepting loading and unloading.  
Wrap the silverware, lay out the napkins, and prepare the menus. It  
was always the same.

So when he was fetching more silverware out of the storage closet,  
the smell of smoke surprised him. It was a faint, barely detectable  
aroma, but the scent still made its presence known. Running back to  
the cashier desk, Clark found the faint stench had become smog of  
smoke, sullying the entire restaurant.

How had the fire spread so fast? Glancing around, he saw a pile of  
napkins, brilliantly lit and ready for take off, right next to a  
dysfunctional coffee maker.

Grabbing the fire extinguisher, Clark headed for the coffee maker,  
ready to flag down the flames. The pain was endurable, at a  
distance. Except, he found he could not get closer, and the flames  
ignited suddenly, ragging up a rebellion. No amount of extinguisher  
fluid could save the Beanary now. 

Choking through the smoke, Clark dashed out of the café, finding a  
patient Lex talking on the cell phone, possibly to the fire  
department.

Seeing Clark, Lex abruptly closed his cell phone, "They're on their  
way. What took you so long to get out here?"

" I tried to put it out."

Lex gave Clark another perusal, taking in everything again. He  
chuckled evenly, as if it was the most outrageous answer the city  
man had ever heard replied and he could find no other way to express  
it. He shook himself from the momentary mirth, setting his  
incredulity aside, "Of course you did."

Perhaps it was the way Lex said it, his tone a little too blunt, a  
little too callous.

"Is it bad to prevent a disaster?" A tentative question, extracting  
just a bit more information from his supposed prince, a bit more  
words, a bit more hope that he was not just another big-city  
tormenter.

Lex opened his mouth, but must have thought better of it and  
shrugged instead. 

Perhaps it was the fleeting look, once again Lex staring past Clark  
and discounting him. Perhaps it was the silly notation that Lex was  
different than the superior city-boys and their engorged heads.  
Perhaps it was the echoing shatter of a picture losing its glass  
frame.

Whatever it was, the booming crash echoed in Clark's heart even  
after the fire trucks and police and Chloe had arrived.

---

After Chloe hounded firemen and police officers alike, after the  
trucks had cleared, after the damage had been accessed, after the  
town gossip spread, after Lex had cleared the area, Clark was at  
last by himself.

A tremble of worry sank in his stomach, a harbinger reeking  
throughout his system compelling him to head straight home. Never  
one to ignore his intuition, Clark set path-

Only to be hindered by a canon of blonde and style. And such as the  
characterization of a canon, when Chloe ran into she sent sparks  
everywhere, relentlessly pounding away information at him.

"Clark-Bar, big trouble, came from Lex's, must abandon the scene,  
c'mon." A jumble of words, and she was off leading Clark away. After  
the preliminary bang, there was little energy left, and the next  
words were slower, more complete, "They said the fire was set   
deliberately, and well, with only you and Lex being there," Chloe's  
worried voice trailed off, trembling a bit in a insecure melody, the  
bombarding boom had drifted off to a faded echo, a beat almost  
drumming the suspense.

It was the look, an impeding doom, and finally.

A blitzkrieg of realization hit him, blasting in from all sides,  
gusting away his arguments before he even began assembling them.  
Finally, finding his voice in the rubble, he bellowed out, "They  
cannot possibly think I started the fire? It's me, Clark Kent, clean  
reputation with the shiny Boy Scout pin?"

Even though Clark resented hearing people say those things about  
him, at times like these, shoving those particulars back out into  
the open made him feel better.

She did not deny it. She did not even try to reassure him that there  
was no feasible way they could incriminate him with this. Instead,  
she offered an alternative, "Look, Lex has been talking to the  
police. He's been stretching his influence to get you off the hook,  
but as for getting your job back..."

It was hopeless, he supplied in his head. It was hopeless, because  
although he did not do anything, Smallville was always about finding  
a scapegoat or an easy explanation, anything to keep from facing  
reality. Clark started the fire because he was the last one in the  
kitchen. Tina Grier lost 40 pounds because she had an eating  
disorder, and she went away to a mental hospital. The random fat-  
drained body were a result of a virus. Keep it simple stupid.

In the wreckage of actuality, Clark's rationality took a dive,  
compelling him to say a unnecessary, "So much for that car."

He did not need the car. He knew it; she knew it. He hated driving.  
He knew it; she knew it. In a small town there was no use for the  
car. He knew it; she knew it.

And yet, he still wanted the car. Now, even with damage control  
running about, the word had extended across Smallville. It would be  
silly to think the "pyro arsonist" Clark Kent would ever be seen  
working at another business here.

"Clark." She sensed the desperation of his words, his vain hope of  
making something out of the pit he had fall into, trying to fall to  
the bottom so he could begin his way back up.

Smallville was a bottomless pit. She knew it; he would live it.

---

Even though Clark worked up the courage to find Lex, thank him for  
his kind acts, and (probably) never see him again, it still took him  
five days. Even after those five days, the first words out of his  
mouth were rudimentary, as if Jonathan Kent's spirit seized his  
vocal cords, 

"I can't believe you actually live in a castle." He had half a mind  
to ask him if he kept the whip and chains in the dungeon or the  
bedroom, but Martha Kent's conditioning already had begun to punish  
him for his thoughts. He had no idea where the frank anger arose  
from, as his intentions were only pure.

But he had yet to vocalize his anger, yet to extinguish the burning  
rage crisping at his patience.

"Clark, I was expecting you." The piercing eyes gleamed at him from  
a desk across the room, and although the eyes did not smile, there  
was one on his lips. Either Lex was simply ignoring his boorish  
behavior to be polite, or he expected the anger to be irrationally  
thrown at him.

And suddenly the rage sizzled down, dowsed with a fine cup of  
veracity. Lex probably had really tried his best; Chloe would not  
have given him any news but the truth.

"L-" He paused. Was he supposed to call the once cherished prince  
Lex or Luthor? A look at Lex, and he decided throughout the displays  
of benevolence, Lex deserved not to be called his family named   
discarded months ago. "Lex, I came here to say thank you. I know we  
have not known each other well, and there was hardly any reason for  
you to even try to talk sense into the police officer. I mean, you  
and I both know I did not start that fire. That should have been  
enough."

Lex analyzed the boy in front of him, taking in everything from the  
slackened posture to the sincere affection in his eyes. He knew what  
he saw in those eyes, and although it would be fun to trail the  
puppy along to Metropolis, he refused to see the boy in front of him  
regarded as any less than his true potential.

"I'm afraid there might have been a mixed message along the lines. I  
thought I would be the one thanking you."

"I didn't do anything." Clark yielded, shakily drawing the words  
from his lips.

Lex continued at his words, ignoring Clark's uncertainty, "You  
intrigued me, Clark. A simple fascination, one I could easily have  
overcome, but lacked the willpower.  
"In the first week of working, I found out more about you than any  
hired man could ever hope to hold. A impeding force, waiting to  
bless the world with kindness and generosity, and yet, tangled in an  
aegis of attachment, inhibiting progress.  
"You have a master's in journalism from MetU, a rather impressive  
resume, both to which sit dusty in a back drawer. Did you ever plan  
to move ahead with your life? What was keeping you back? Why not  
make something of yourself? I passed it off as adolescent rebellion-  
until I met Martha."

" My mom?" If Clark had expected anything when coming here, it  
certainly was not here.

"A seemingly brittle woman, but surprisingly fierce, ready to face a   
bullet for her son. She is terrified her only son will bottling   
himself up in Smallville, rather than moving on and venturing with  
Chloe into the big city. She is worried his dislike of the city may  
be wearing on you." He paused, a slight smile arose on his face, "Do  
you know the affect you have on people Clark? The way you are seen  
here- an angel among men. Why wouldn't you want to help as many  
people as you can? The city holds so much potential for you."

"I am not an angel." Clark blurted out, "You're deluded. I may show  
up at the right places at the right time, give a helping hand to a   
stranger, but that's not an angel. I'm not some holy saint that   
won't confess you sound like a creepy stalker. Because you do." 

"You are seen here as an angel, but I confess I never have seen you  
of that sorts." Lex smiled, "angels cannot lie."

Fear slithered through Clark's veins, a scaly snake, selfishly  
draining his warmth. "Everyone lies about little things."

"A truth- in the midst of lies. Ah, I am sure I can dig one up." Lex  
did not once move from his chair, an intimidating position of power.  
He was not forcing Clark to stay, but the constant eye contact  
commanded Clark's muscles to tighten, forbidding him to move.

"You take a job at my work, question people about me, stake out my  
mom, call me a liar. It's getting rather easy to tell why you are  
always compared to your father." Clark, although locked in movement,   
still could freely access his words.

"Ah, your fiery passion. It shows in your work, you know that? Once  
riled, you get pretty carried away. I like that." Lex seemed to  
notice he was dwelling off topic- a rare event for the polished   
businessman, steering himself back on the tracks, he announced, "I  
owed you a reward. So I give you freedom, something I have watched  
and saw that you yearned for the most."

"Working in Smallville, stalking me, my friends and family,  
backtracking through my files--- it was all as a "thank you?" What  
did I even do? I didn't even know you before you worked at the  
Beanery. And how did you give me free...oh no." Clark was not a   
journalist major for nothing. He actually was great at putting   
pieces together, finding the veiled implication. It was just at   
times when the puzzle was more sinister than he originally thought  
that he worried. "Please tell me that was some sick city-humored  
joke."

"Clark." But Lex could not get his two words in, because Clark ran  
them out a thousand miles per minute.

"Did you set fire to the Beanery because I needed push to the  
outside world? Because I had better things waiting for me on the  
other side of the match? Because I was tying myself down to  
Smallville?"

"Clark." He tried again, this time knowing he would barely get the  
name out before being interrupted and slightly okay because there  
was nothing left to do but let Clark work out his frustrations.

"Right. I can handle the background checks, in fact, I can  
completely overlook them. But you're holding horses with thread if  
you think I'm not going to the authorities- -"

Lex's turn to cut in. "They won't believe you. Nothing was damaged.  
In fact, Mr. Kingleys made a large profit off the building, and all  
the employees are being compensated for their time."

"Oh good, because I always wanted everyone to be perfectly happy  
with a toasted building. Do me a favor? Next time you decide to help  
a stranger find his or her way- don't burn down a building." Clark   
ran out of the room, too thoroughly upset with the blue-eyed wonder  
to even continue with the tête-à-tête. 

-----

Clark never discussed with Chloe what happened when he went to thank  
Lex. Fortunately, he had not revealed to her he was going, or else  
who knows what he may have said to her.

A deep roar of disgust lay uneasy in his gut, racked with hate and  
fear of Lex, as well as ignominy with himself for liking the  
stalking tyrant.

The roar never calmed, even when the moving trucks were seen packing  
away the mansions inner workings, heading them back into the city  
where they came from. Locked in the unfortunate blessing of  
Lex's "gift," Clark would soon be forced to abandon his hometown,  
wishing and hoping time would heal this wound inflicted upon his  
reputation.

It would be four more years until the two came face to face.

----

The shadowy buildings loomed over the streets, casting a darkening  
doom upon the setting. The urban roads were torn apart, littered  
with sporadic holes and trash. The dimmest lamp lit a varied area,   
shuttering on and off with the nights hours.

A speeding tan car broke the miserable district of vast emptiness.  
Coming to a screeching halt, the noise merely echoed across the  
deteriorating buildings, the sound cracking crumbs of the weaker  
structures. 

Noises broke out through the derelict area, as the two passengers  
stepped out of the car.

"Next time, Lois, I drive. That was four red lights you ran--- in a  
row!" The outrage of the man, tall and bulky, handsome and  
mysterious, was lowered by the gusty whispering of his voice.

"Shut up. My car, my driving. You can walk, Coffee-Boy." The  
shorter, shapely figure threatened back, her voice slightly echoing  
in the abandoned town.

"And you can take Jimmy on your next ruse to die before 30." The  
woman identified as Lois shuddered at the mention of 30, making the  
threat of the overzealous newbie seem like a welcoming sign.

"You're lucky you can write- I have half a mind- umph." Clark's,  
the "Coffee-Boy, " hand covered Lois's mouth, hearing the slight pad  
of feet coming from around the corner.

"Someone's coming. Go into the restaurant, find Snealzs, get the  
interview. I'll be right out here, looking to see if find a sign of  
life that might know more about these robberies."

The restaurant- one of the many ruined buildings of the street, had  
no lights to shine the "Bell's Kitchen" posted above the door, and  
the glass tinted windows, a dark hue in the dim light, were  
shattered. Without fear, Lois disappeared behind the haunted doors  
of the most popular restaurant of Gnoles, now apart of the slums of   
Metropolis, and once a popular attraction for the entire city. 

In the time it took Lois to be kicked out of the restaurant, having  
greatly offended Snealzs, (a quality in which usually kept her from  
the more personal side of the reporting job, but Clark insisted she  
do because of the seedy area) Clark managed to find two people to  
confirm that the robberies started around the time LuthorCorp tried  
to buy up the land but was refused, two or three years ago.

As they drove off, leaving the dying neighborhood behind, Clark  
could not help but feel a little extra work was needed.

-----

It was effortless, to fall back into the simple practice of serving.  
No one looked at you, no one spoke to you. It was easy. Of course,  
now the job came with the added benefits of being disregarded and  
being able to spy.

LuthorCorp was growing out of control. Terrorizing the citizens with  
their growing influence in state and government, barely any  
companies were saved from being bought out. Small business might as  
well invest in LuthorCorp stock- not to mention the various  
increases in crime rates, the roaring corruption. Just last month  
the mayor had vetoed an energy bill that would have decreased the  
amount of electricity used by each person and consequently would  
have lost LuthorCorp millions each year. It was no wonder that five  
days after the veto, the mayor had a lumpy back pocket.

The tolerance shakily began breaking away at that point, and several   
assassination attempts in the last weeks plagued Mr. Lionel Luthor,  
who made no show of acknowledging these bare misses. Sooner or  
later, one of those shots would not miss.

In the amidst of hundreds of millionaires and billionaires alike,  
one could not tell of the ill seeking the billionaire by looking at  
him, as his placid face remained the same throughout the night. Only  
a quick uplift of an eyebrow changed his demeanor, and no sooner had   
this emotion shown than it had been perfectly erased.

Following the men who caused this change, Lionel Luthor's  
accompanied date was unlatched from his arm as he and a two other  
businessmen headed toward the back to take about some ventures they  
were planning.

A perfect opportunity, one Clark had been waiting weeks for. If  
Snealzs would not volunteer the information, Clark would just have  
to find it out by himself. If his mutant powers could help him  
protect this city from men like Lionel, it would only be injustice  
to not use them.

Casually making his way to the area sectioned off for rest purposes  
in a way such that it was not noticeable he was making an escape, he  
now was infinitely glad he convinced Lois he was better because he  
was less known. (He constantly got his way when flattery came into  
the picture; Lois' big head inflated quite continuously when it went   
unchecked.)

Passed the closed doors, he merely set his dish (yes, he really did  
have to carry it around and offer it to the mingling people) onto a  
nearby table, and then proceeded to rush into a brightly lit,  
glaringly porcelain chamber, the bathroom seemed to be relentless  
against his eyes. Channeling his hearing, he caught the last of a  
sentence.

"I expect the money on my desk by Friday." The head of Blair and  
Sons Motor Industry.

"Don't be foolish- it would be too suspicious, you already have the  
media searching your every drawer." The silky voice, full of danger  
and waiting to strike.

"Do you want Gate out of the scene or not?" A low threat, backed by  
nothing but words. A poor attempt to threaten the billionaire.

"Do not sully my hands with your impatience. We have a deal, do not  
steer from it, lest I have to rectify the problem myself."

" You're out of your league Luthor, you can't possibly do this  
directly and not have Jr. and the reports tagging you down. It's  
amazing he doesn't know about this now." A new voice, most likely  
the short man in Berkley's law firm.

"Ah this – Jr.- fellow is just another obstacle is the long run of  
business. He will soon cease to be a problem, but let us not veer  
off track. I am not worried about Joseph; he is an insect to the  
tiger hiding in the grass.

"No, no. It is a leak, a certain Taylor Birks, who you men should  
really be worried about. Ah, yes, Mr. Birks. Wasn't he employed to  
you, Sam? He has grown quite a conscience, rather dangerous in his  
line of business."

" I would take you down with me."

" No one would believe you. Forget the money, make Gate disappear or  
certain facts will reappear. I would hate to lose such two business   
partners."

Silence danced among the tense air, playing with the cords of  
frustration, drawing them tighter and tighter, until finally one  
snapped.

"Gate will be gone." Defeat sang it's beautiful voice. Sometimes it  
seemed, not even the whimsical sounds of music could calm a fierce  
tyrant. Life is unforgiving. By twelve midnight Thursday, when their  
plans of actions had carried through, both of the CEOs would be  
laying in a pool of their own blood, their last note a resonant  
scream, followed by several rest, a quiet ending for a dramatic  
piece. 

A turning knob, a click allowing access out, and the soft shut of  
the door concluded the meeting.

Clark, always looking out for the fellow citizens, quickly banked  
the names in his head. He did not know who Joseph Gate or Birk were,  
but knowing Luthor, they would be deceased by the end of this week. 

Obligation, or perhaps more of friendship, drove Clark into   
informing Lois, asking her to do the dog's work of the partnership  
until his shift was over.

Happily, she agreed, babbling off a list of possible scenarios  
before hanging up.

A smooth click, the dooming turning of miniature pins, sounded in   
Clark's ear, and without further investigation, he knew he was   
locked in the bathroom. The soft pace of feet, so familiar, but so  
unknown, stalked closer. Suddenly the rhythm stopped, two feet,  
impatience glaring from the black shine, stood right outside the  
bathroom door.

The shine, the shine, the shine, he could not ignore it. No super  
speed nor any of his other mutant powers could save him here. The  
enclosed walls suddenly shrunk, a wild uproar ceased his senses. He  
had to get out of there before he and all his mutant self passed  
out. Forcing himself to relax, he mightily, tentatively opened the  
door, ignoring the urge to burst out of the cell and flee from the   
claustrophobia.

"Hello, Mr. Kent." The smooth voice, so promising and so deceiving.

"Lex- Luthor." Flustered, again. Caught. In a stall, cell phone  
still held in his left hand, food tray- where did he put that again?  
A red hue boiled up, and he threatened it back down. "Did- Did you  
follow me in here?" He pushed past him, out of the stall. Aha,   
outrage. Much better.

"Simply worried when a waiter went missing. You know, when I helped  
you in Smallville, I did not mean for you to become a waiter in  
Metropolis." Lex chuckled, flashing him a coral set of teeth.

The smile ran through his veins, the blood pumping faster, the heart  
racing faster—his mind suddenly struck with a cold fear: "Stay away   
from me. I do not want your help." A fleeting, anxious feeling  
floated into Clark's gut, encouraging the thrumming of his blood.  
The lunatic in front of him had not seemed to radically alter over  
the years.

"But you don't really need my help do you? I'll save immolation for  
another day." A slight smirk, more friendly (if you could call a  
lunatic friendly) than cruel, and then the conversation turned  
serious. A dark shadow cast itself on Lex, and a warning fell from  
his lips, "Clark, you're playing with sharks. There is nothing they  
will not do. Expect everything, expect nothing. Do not trust anyone,   
least of all your friends. Businessmen are tyrants."

" And are you a businessman? " The shadow moved off of Lex, hitting  
Clark's left hand, as if slowly infecting him.

"A slight trade below, I'm afraid. But, in your line of work, I am  
sure you knew that?"

Ah yes, the collapse of LexCorp, the end of a terrifying reign.  
Filled with possibilities, charity organizations, and thousands of  
other helpful tidbits, LexCorp was doomed. Slight slips, rounded  
edges, had LexCorp not been eaten by LuthorCorp, LexCorp could have  
become dangerously powerful. The mightily fall, an anguished cry  
ringing through the city, thousands losing their job due to  
LuthorCorp cuts, the mere four minutes summarized everything.

"Perhaps the fall was a miracle? Fatum erat." The snotty reply was  
meant to hurt, but his companion smiled.

"Fatum sumus. If anything happens, call this number. Give your name  
and you'll be sent directly to me. Sharks, Clark. A life vest will  
not save you." A card, with shinning gold print, was handed to  
Clark, who took it without contemplation.

An agreement, a truce, he did not understand it himself. He hated  
the man in front of him, the one who ripped away his secure setting  
in Smallville and forced him to abandon his miserable mom. (Who,  
although she wanted him to go and escape Smallville, clung to him  
until the very end.) And yet, he held Lex's eyes, promising, "If  
anything ever happens to you, I'm sure you have a data file or a  
drawer full of my contact information. Don't be afraid to use it."

He couldn't understand what made him say that, but he felt  
alarmingly surprised he meant it. Even the joke, lingering on bitter  
memories, was lightly meant, a sort of diminishing the tension.

Lex stepped away from the threshold, allowing Clark access to the   
outdoors.

Perhaps something had changed in the man. 

-----

A pile of notes scattered the desk, print outs and access codes and  
pictures were smeared across the desk in random order. A busy day at  
the planet, topped off with Clark's lead, and finally, finally  
something was coming out of it. 

Joseph Gate arrived in Metropolis around three years ago, ready to  
begin his own business in Gnoles. At the time, the place was well  
known for it's extravagant restaurants and elegant antique shops.  
Although those days were over, and his restaurant long closed, Gate  
still resided in the area, the building and house still owned by  
him.

And perfectly, the number had not changed in the past three years.  
Taking the late hour chance, as Lois was known to do, she dialed the  
number.

A gruff, sluggish voice responded, "'Lo? Who's callin'?"

Clearing her throat and making it as serene as possible, a difficult  
task for someone with a nagging thread pulling her towards the  
Pulitzer, Lois retorted, "Ah- Mr. Gate? This is Lois Lane, from the  
Daily Planet-"

"Whatchya callin' her for ? I didn't do nothing." Defensive.  
Something really big had to be going down.

"Actually, I was wondering if you knew anything about the burglaries  
going on-"

Click.

"Joseph? Gate? Hello? Dammit."

Perhaps she should take Clark's advice and go for a more subtle  
approach. The idea of resembling the sickly sweet farm boy in any  
form revolted her, and she decided she would just find some other  
way. She would have her Pulitzer.

----

Ralph Snealzs was a common city businessman, so common indeed, there  
was nothing outlandish about him. In the early 2000s, his restaurant  
had won awards dignifying it as most prominent restaurant. During  
that time, he had been married and happily divorced. Also, once 60  
grand in the hole, he was now receiving insurance from his  
restaurant's robbery in Gnoles.

So common he was, he had a tapping set up, covering the range of the  
street, waiting for a misplaced sign, waiting for a sign his  
paranoia was not in futile.

Belle's Kitchen, his life, his treasure, was nothing more than a  
wasted dump. He sat with frantic worry over the days proceedings.

At last! A fellow owner in Gnoles, Gate had just called a reporter.   
Driven with fear, he quickly moved to cover the spill. Taking the   
trace, a number and a house, he knew what he must do. There were   
some things in life that were better left unknown.

As a common city businessman, it was his duty to make sure they  
remained secret.

----

Monday morning, Clark and Lois went over her notes, and no lead.  
Monday morning, and a call from Chloe- lasting no more than two  
seconds, which happened frequently because she always called him to  
ask a question but suddenly realized the answer and hung up before  
he could answer- and no contacts. Monday morning, Gate had  
supposedly fled town; Monday morning, Snealz had taken to become a  
dummy, unable to talk unless the ventriloquist of a lawyer put the  
words into his mouth. Monday morning, and still Lionel Luthor knew  
better than to speak to amateur reporters. Monday Morning, Clark had  
yet to call Lex- not that he ever would, be he still thought about  
it. 

Monday morning and Chloe went missing.

Clark was the first to know, followed five seconds later by Lois.

Clark informed the police officer he received a call from her a few  
hours earlier. The police officer informed Clark Chloe was last seen  
a few days ago, and a neighbor had complained about her cat's meows.   
Perry informed Clark they looked like he swallowed a cockroach.   
Clark informed Perry he was taking a personal day.

Leaving without further notice, Clark bolted out the door, the  
disease of worry spreading through him and attacking his rationality.

---

She was dimly aware of the faint pain in the back of her head,  
growing progressively noticeable as her senses began to return. A  
voice murmmering in the background, pacing back and forth. The loud  
clunk of the feet making it's appearance through a pulsation sound  
in Chloe's mind.

Over the thudding sound of feet, Chloe could distinguish the  
syllables of the words until they began to make sense, forming  
compound sentences- ah ah! There was the noun. Clone. The clone's  
progress was proceeding well. And! There was another noun. Lionel.  
Wait!

Chloe's mind without more ado backtracked, reviewing the  
information and sharply tuning itself. Luckily, she could jump back  
and process the given information. 

"I don't want to be involved with this! My part involves a  
restaurant, not whatever the hell some maniac built below it. Clear  
my name or I swear to God- Taylor? What does he have to do with  
this?" The harsh hush of his voice rang through the cracked walls.

For the first time since being awake, Chloe noticed she was in an  
deserted restaurant. She figured as much, due to Joseph Gasper's  
call. She did not know why he called her, but she never turned down  
the gruff voice of a terrified man. He was in trouble, that much he  
had not said, but it was implied. He promised her he didn't mean any  
of it, promised he just got caught up in business. He was a  
businessman, he was supposed to do all he could to protect his  
business. He start incoherently babbling about the Luthors and  
proceeded to hang up. Right after, Chloe called Lex.

Lex and her had remained on a friendly relationship, strengthening  
over the downfall of LexCorp. Lex, although understanding she could  
not mention her sources name due to journalism ethics, offered to  
hire her help, even stay with her a few nights until she was less  
spooked. Two nights and several backaches from a lumpy coach, Lex  
was released from his obligation. Chloe had not received anymore  
calls, and if she were she was to call Lex. Once agreed, Lex still  
had Mercy watch over her.

Even under Mercy's guard, eight hours, 36 minutes, and 17 seconds  
after being left on her own, Chloe was captured by a man she had  
known, but certainly not the man she talked to on the phone.

The rounded face of Snealz stared at her, whispering, "I'm sorry,"  
over and over, even as she passed out from the chloroform.

And even now, through her blurry vision, Chloe saw herself laid on a  
bed made of cushions, covered with a blanket and a glass of water  
beside her. No chains, no rope. She might as well be an obligatory  
victim through all the care he had gone into making her comfortable-  
well, as comfortable as possible in an abandoned restaurant.

Once again, the voices picked up in her hearing range, "Powers? From  
where? Kent? His lover? No, no. Don't tell me anymore. I hear, see,  
and speak no evil-- as long as I do not hear nor see evil." He  
abruptly hung up the phone, shaking and worried.

Clark? Lex? Clones? Lionel? Looking in her pocket, yes, he hadn't  
taken her phone. Signal? One bar. Good. She called Clark, just  
getting him and losing signal as he picked up. Dammit.

She thrusted her phone between the cushions, incase Snealz decided  
he would turn on his "favorite reporter" who he had entrusted so  
many leads in. Sometimes, people you knew the most, flabbergasted  
you the most.

---

Even with his mutant powers and journalist training, Clark was  
hopeless. Calling his mother, she informed him that the best thing  
to do was relax and let the police take care everything. Her gentle  
anguished voice, always so broken after Jonathan's death, always so  
regretful - she was never the same kindhearted women he remembered  
from his childhood years- calmed him with familiarity.

Lex Luthor had been the last person seen with Chloe Sullivan. Had  
the tyrant kidnapped her to prove an insane point to Clark? Quit  
waiting and become a journalist or you'll lose the only inspiration  
you ever had? Maybe he should just inform the businessman he really  
was a reporter and he would give Chloe back.

Somehow, Clark did not think Lex, although quite capable physically  
and mentally, kidnapped Chloe. Otherwise, why in the world would  
there be a large crew of men hired by Lex looking for the missing  
person? Not the scoundrels Lionel would have hired, whose men were  
more for the purpose of burying than digging, but rather honest,  
good working humble men.

Rebelling against his mom's words, Clark took on watching Lex's  
employees, scouting them for information. It was a floating idea,  
but the broken red vase, shattered in the attack, had an odd piece  
among the remains. The darker shade of red, glaring different colors  
at different points in the light, looked oddly familiar. Forensic  
science told the investigators the glass was not from anywhere in  
the room, but an outside source.

This information, passed on to Clark through the use of his special  
abilities, gave him a shimmer of hope. More information, passed by a  
telephone company about recent phone calls, gave him all the  
confirmation he needed. The last call Chloe received was from Joseph  
Gate. Taking the lead, he wound back up into Gnoles.

The streets, still lubrigious and uninviting, were less ominous than  
before. No lights, but on a hunch, Clark knew he would find what he  
was looking for. And if running into Lex Luthor, glamored out in a  
five hundred dollar shirt and a ridiculously expensive pair of  
pants, happened to be on the road to finding Chloe, so be it.

Lex looked at him, and sighed as if he expected this, "Somehow, I  
think I may have known you would be here."

Lex did not bother questioning Clark on how he received his  
information, in fact he just smiled. His whole demeanor had changed  
in the years since Smallville. No longer was he an attending  
businessman. He had played that part, formed LexCorp, say the final  
annihilation of LexCorp, and now he idled around, working for his  
father, doing nothing more than paper work. No, this Lex Luthor was  
not a businessman, this man had hung up his suit and retired.

"I just got a call sending me information about Chloe. The police  
are coming in ten minutes, but I thought I'd give it a look around,  
play a bit of Hero." Not waiting for Clark, Lex entered the   
building, slowly opening the door, glad when there was no creaking  
breaking the haunting silence. The slight pad of feet, calming and  
worrying, and ten million other things Clark did not think about,  
disappeared into the partially lit building.

For all the careful procedure, they might as well have banged open  
the door, for in the next second, Lex fell through a few rotten  
boards. Before he could think, Clark was on the floor at an  
unnatural rate, grabbing Lex's hand and saving him from crashing to  
the bottom. Hoping the shock had unhinged his senses, Clark lifted  
Lex, helping him dust off from the wreckage.

Knowing that stealthily trying to approach would now be useless,  
Clark left Lex and ran into the main room, trying to find them  
before anyone managed to get away.

Only, no one was there. The abandoned restaurant was actually an  
abandoned restaurant. No Chloe held in the corner, begging for her  
life as this insane Gate character tried to murder her.  
The lead was at a dead end, time to turn and find a new road. Lex  
came behind him, a few minutes later, slightly limping and holding  
his arm, which Clark now noticed to be bleeding.

"Hey, watch it, I left you to rest, not kill yourself trying to walk  
across the room." Clark checked over his body with his x-ray vision,  
a fleeting relief coursed through him. Nothing sprained, nothing  
broken.

"No harm done, I heal quick." He scrutinized his eyes, sending a   
slight challenge, as if the statement were so profound that only a  
select few had heard it before. Perhaps Lex thought Clark that   
important, and was challenging Clark to address his feelings as   
well. Perhaps not.

"I suppose that comes in handy when you are related to Lionel  
Luthor." Clark smiled, not prepared to address his relationship, the  
tension, the thumping of his heart, the yearning that was once again  
returning-- even in the amidst of his best friend's kidnapping.

"Well, it's countered with having Clark Kent at my side. My Mr. Hero  
of sorts."

The statement to Clark sounded odd, having more meaning than he  
could ever imagine. He saved him from the floor boards' doom, but  
the damage had he not been there could not have been so severe the  
cops would not have been able to handle it. 

Lex tore off a piece of his shirt, tying it around his wounded arm,  
preventing further blood loss. "Even if I do heal quick, blood is a  
nasty thing to lose."

Taking off his jacket- Clark laid it down on Lex's shoulders. "I  
would hate to have you explain to the authorities how you managed to  
get so tattered without a victim in site. Falling through a hole  
does not sound nearly as heroic when there's no damsel in distress."

Lex did not remark on how the dark colored jacket hide the spill of   
blood, instead he opted to change the subject, putting the concern  
for Chloe first, " Did you try all the rooms?" 

With my x-ray vision, thought Clark, but he wasn't about to tell  
that to Lex. "Yes."

Lex nodded, not bothering to double check his word, showing more  
trust that one would assume of someone in the line of CEOs, but as  
Clark had discovered before, Lex was not such the businessman  
personality. 

"I'm going to check with Snealz, he's been quiet lately, but maybe  
he could tell us if he saw anything." Clark stated, leaving an  
opening for Lex to join him, if he so wished. 

Lex nodded, "Let's give the police our statements and head out. I  
don't suppose this Snealz character owns a restaurant too? I think I  
might be getting sick of them. Wouldn't it be ironic if I died in  
one?"

Clark, ever the one for superstitions, knocked on the nearest  
wall. "Lex, keep thoughts like that to yourself next time, okay?"

Lex, noticing the affect of his words, nodded, "I promise we will   
find Chloe alive and we will all make it out okay. Perhaps we will  
go out for that tea Chloe's been addicted to lately."

Clark laughed, "You're behind on the days- Chloe's sticking strictly   
to coffee again. Easy to make and plenty of it late nights in the   
Planet."

" I don't suppose you drink that dirt too?" Lex questioned, heading  
out in front of Clark to the police, who by the sound of it, just  
arrived.

"Not since I worked at the Beanery." What could have come out as   
harsh and angry, came out as a slight joke of old times, as if they  
were two friends reminiscing on old times.

"Yes, that evil coffee maker." Lex laughed.

"You knew about that?" Clark's eyes bugged and suddenly he realized  
by just how much he had been set up that day. Lex would have started   
the fire where he was most vulnerable, in order he would not   
diminish the wild flames by any method.

"Clark, soon you'll realize there is nothing I don't know."

-----

The dramatic freeing of Chloe, as put forth into Clark's head, took   
place the very next hour. Or, Snealz, hearing the police sirens so  
close to his door, jumped out of dodge and fled the scene, leaving  
a "napping" Chloe alone in the corner.

After three minutes, Chloe hopped out of the building and ran toward  
the sound of the police sirens.

Well, she would have ran, but still lethargic from the chloroform  
and having only coffee and water in her system, she may have made it  
a half of a mile before her bones screeched "no more."

Walking the rest of the way, she regained her breath as well as  
composure. All the better, for when the flashes and yells, and  
dozens of microphones where thrust into her view, she look quite a  
doll rather than a deranged mutt.

Chloe had found Clark, rather than Clark finding Chloe.

----

Chloe had become distant, as was normal with kidnapping. She told  
them nothing about who had kidnapped her, nor the words shared.  
Setting back, all three in a booth in a coffee shop, Chloe on one  
side by herself with the supposed lovers setting across from her,  
Chloe really looked at them.

And they really did look like lovers. She supposed the past couple  
of days brought them closer together. The hostility between the two  
had all but disappeared, replaced with a mutual acceptance- and  
perhaps more.

The light in Lex's eyes, although it was always there whether he was  
seeing Clark, or talking about Clark, seemed now more mystical, as  
if he found his holy grail.

And Clark, perhaps had Clark once again found his prince. Even  
through the monstrosity of the earlier years--- Clark would kill  
Chloe if he knew burning down the Beanery had been her idea--- had  
tempered.

Which meant they were both in trouble. Lionel Luthor was a vicious  
pit-bull; he could look surprisingly affable and saccharine, even as  
his victims hand rest mischievously detached in his mouth.

Lex had mentioned clones in Smallville; Lionel had tried to make a  
clone of him to follow dutifully through the business world,  
becoming his puppet. The clones never lasted more than a couple of  
days, and finally the research was ended.

Chloe remembered how much strain had been put on Lex- knowing the  
control his father had on him, until he had ultimately sent out to  
start his own business. He succeeded well, too well in fact. Perhaps  
that was his undoing, Lex was never much of a businessman, he didn't  
have the guts, the over glace. No, he was much better suited as a  
caring brother in society.

Chloe refused to destroy the Lex he had finally managed to become,  
refused to drive him back to the business world he had so reviled.  
No, Lex had sacrificed enough. It was her time to give back to her  
friend, as well as her best friend, what they have offered her all  
along. A chance.

----

Threats thickened, and finally, it became too much. The police  
ransacked his broken building, the structure finally collapsing on  
itself, falling to it's grave in a rush of tumble and timber. Who  
hears a tree falling in the middle of an deserted forest? He  
certainly did.

He felt it as well, he breathed it, smelling the decayed wood,  
tasting the forgotten succulence, he certainly saw it, the dream now  
shattered beyond repair. He could take the money, start new. Snealz  
would want him to. Snealz, his beloved friend, always by his side,  
always with him. Business partners, he was glad Snealz had left  
town, leaving his soul only slightly besmirched of his hideous  
crimes. He betrayed Snealz, to the highest degree. There was no  
point, he was a dying red star.

But now, he realized, the pressure was on, there was no escape. He  
was a mere puppet in a line of evil doings. He would complete his  
work, and he would be killed; he would not do his work, and he would  
be killed.

Was the triumph worth the cost? Did it matter? He was a dead soul  
anyway; he might as well be a useful dead soul.

He promised Snealz he would pursue his dream no matter what may  
come. They would pursue it together, and he broke apart torn by his  
own greed. He would do this for Snealz, so when he finally knew of  
the betrayal, he would as least know it was worth something rather  
than nothing.

-----

The pressure, the need to be repent, came to one other that  
thunderous evening. The devil it seemed, had been making his tours.  
Only, this one, willingly sacrificed everything at the price of good  
rather than evil. She would not be the puppet, she would be the  
actress. She could pretend to be manipulated, and she would do it.  
For her friends and for her self.

Some things were too great to leave behind.

Sometimes fate had a comical way of presenting itself.

Sometimes following the devil led to virtue.


	2. Part II

Disclaimer: Smallville and its characters do not belong to me.

Waiting on You: Part II  
----  
Four Months Later  
---

"Wait- you're meeting Lex Luthor, the Lex Luthor, for lunch? It's  
apart of an expose right, please, please tell me you don't really  
trust this guy? Do you remember the last months of LexCorp. He's a   
monster." Lois Lane- now known to slaughter the victims until the  
truth is revealed.

She had become gradually better, realizing she must hold her own  
temper as well as patience. Coerce the victim to you, let them tell  
you all they have to say, and then nail them relentlessly in the  
newspaper. Let no page go unturned, this is a newspaper and the  
people will have the truth.

And the truth with Lex Luthor lay in history, in their newspaper no  
less. The tyrant, cutting thousands of workers due to a bad  
contract. It was her first piece, and would remain with her as an  
achievement upon her wall forever. 

Although both Chloe and Clark had mentioned what a great guy Lex  
could really be, well, in their versions of great guys. Neither  
Chloe or Clark ever flat out said "he is wonderful," but it was  
implied. Oh the implications.

If she could round up a gang of reporters, there would probably be a  
poll of how far Lex and Clark had gone. They had to be lovers, or  
soon to be at least.

So of course Clark's judgment was skewed. And Chloe had known Lex  
forever; it's always difficult to see the flaws in the friends.

No, no. She was alone in this investigation. For four months the  
burglaries had been on the back burner, simmering into a Pulitzer.  
Once this investigation broke, once the story was out, once the  
ending had finally come- she would have her Pulitzer.

Nothing was stopping her- not even the silly fleeting enchantments  
of love.

---

"I would suggest you run away from Lionel Luthor before you're  
utility runs out. He is dangerous.

Rob Gane"

The note stood posted on her door. A caution, a pledge. She trashed  
it. 

---

Taking quiet stroll through the park, a simple and sweet feeling  
clouding Clark's head. Side by side, he and Lex meandered among the  
picturesque setting. Hundreds of bushes, forming into a cutout of a  
portrait, the idea stolen from a park somewhere in Columbus,  
surrounded them. Music soared around them; the rustled the plants  
gave a more lively set to the picture.

A serene picture of a utopian world. Everyone was casually dressed,   
except the businessman on the ground- even the small detail of a bow  
was trimmed on the "businessman- bush."

----

"It has been completed, sir. One week, four days, 17 hours. Ripening   
succeeded. Age 14. It will take another week to make sure after the  
rapid growth he slows down properly." The voice droned on, giving  
facts without feelings. This was his duty. He would make Snealz  
proud of him.

"Flaws?" The demanding voice urged, feeling himself annoyed with any  
mistakes.

"We cannot reenacts any scars he may have received during his  
childhood years." The worthless hours, banging the clone, attempting  
to perfect the scars. So silly, when makeup will do just as well.   
People never notice the difference anyway, the fake can become the  
real.

----

Clark looked at Lex, remembering the "date" (which, Clark refused to  
call a date to anyone but himself) they shared last week. 

The billionaire had shed his suit and traveled out to a lazy   
luncheon down by the planet. Clark, convinced they would have had   
nothing in common, that he was wasting his time, actually enjoyed   
himself.

As a lonely outcast, Lex had found a love in history and movies and  
(if Clark ever told anyone this, he would face a wrath more  
terrifying than Chloe's cookies) Warrior Angel. Clark, who had not  
been able to stop imagining Lex in a set of wings and decked out in  
a spandex suit, finally gave into the childish impulse to laugh,  
agreeing that it was better Lex Warrior Angel than try to become  
him.

Lex replied that if only Clark would become Warrior Angel for him,  
he would have his own personal savior, and then he would bother to  
read the books. 

The present tense of the verb brought up a series of revelations:  
Lex had a warrior angel collection, missing only two, Lex was still  
fascinated with Clark (for whatever reason,) Clark did not mind  
that fascination, and perhaps they should go try this "date" thing  
next week.

However, by the time next week had come, a worry had clouded itself  
around Clark.

"Have you talked to Chloe lately?" Clark inquired, throwing some of  
his hot-dog bun into the man-made pond in the middle of the park,  
with imported ducks and fish.

"Journalist are rarely ever free," Lex replied dryly, reminding  
Clark of the many failed attempts to meet up before this.

"She's been working around the clock again, ever since the  
kidnapping. I know Chloe said she was fine, that she never even met  
her supposed kidnapper. She was heavily drugged, sleep deprived, and  
coffee driven- that she managed to even walk surprised me. But she's  
been pushing her limits. Perry wants her to take a vacation; she's  
not having it." He looked to the ducks, fighting over the piece of  
bread, as if it were the last piece that would be offered to them.

---

"No matter what we do, his hair will not stop growing. If this  
really is a success, his hair will have to be shaved every three  
hours."

" Three?" Again, outraged and demanding.

"Perhaps accelerated do to the birthing process. We have high hopes  
the growth will slow down when the clone reaches twenty-eight. " 

---

Lex cupped Clark's chin, forcing Clark to look into his eyes, "Even  
if the whole world turned upside down, and she became a mere puppy  
following her master, she would still be working on a story." Lex  
smiled, adding lightly, "She'd break away as soon as she smelt  
something fishy."

Clark smiled back, comforted by the billionaire' s words, "I thought   
cat's smelt fish?"

His hand smoothed over Clark's face, "Chloe is a cat- independent  
and taunting- she's always going to smell fish."

His heart beat irregularly. The hooded eyes poured into him, and he  
forced himself to break the tension with a small bit of humor, "So I  
guess she smells you?"

Lex moved away, ruffling Clark's hair, "Are you implying I am a  
fish?"

An offended laugh followed Lex's words, "You could never be a fish,  
maybe a steak."

"I'm steak now?" Lex stood up from the bench, giving him a mock-  
outrage look.

"Quite a delicious piece as well." Clark grinned at him, and then  
tossed the rest of his bun into the pond.

Shaking his head, Lex started walking off, "No wonder you are  
hopeless in relationships. " But, Lex still laughed, turning back to  
Clark, "C'mon, Farm boy."

---

"I have an offer." Having worked with him for over four months, she  
knew his words meant more than he would say. Quid Pro Quo never  
worked well with Lionel Luthor, he would be relentless with demands.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?" She did not look up from her desk work, papers of   
information, all collected by her, summarizing data for the tyrant.  
She did not want to appear too eager, but she could not help her  
bright eyes fill with hope- was this it? Was this the chance she had  
dreamed of for four months?

"I have run into quite an obstacle as of late." He stated, a matter  
of fact, leaving nothing to work with.

She looked uncertainly at the man, so perhaps this wasn't the chance  
she dreamed of. "I don't know that-"

"It has come to my attention- you have a friend, a dear Clark Kent.  
A son of Martha Clark, or did she keep the name Kent?" The light,  
careful way he mentioned her name caught Chloe off guard, He almost  
sounded as he- as if he had loved Clark's mom, the broken,  
distraught woman. Perhaps the relationship had progressed into  
something dangerous, something so dangerous it had broken her  
spirit. Perhaps it broke his humanity too. "I never really  
understood the tragedy of a spouse dying. My wife was always so  
distant, when she died it was as if a favorite portrait was  
destroyed. Easily replaceable, but nothing would quite fit the  
same." Maybe not.

"I work-"

"I do not accept carefully calculated lies. You've known him for  
years, long before you worked with him." Lionel stated, not  
bothering to scold Chloe more for her understated declaration.

It was useless to deny it, "We've been friends since eighth grade."

" Both originating from Smallville. Quite a mysterious town, you'd  
be surprised to find out how many Metropolitans are actually from  
Smallville." He shook his head, laughing at himself in his  
head, "Help me, and I'll give you that Pulitzer you have so desired.  
That Pulitzer that every journalist desires."

" You've mistaken me- what says a friend, especially such a nice one  
as Clark, isn't more important that the Pulitzer?" Play it offended,  
don't let him-

"Nice guys are always liars, but you know this, don't you? Ever feel  
the anger, the tart memory of the lies tying your relationship, the  
envy of someone knowing him more- even when you have been best  
friends for how many years?"

" What do you mean?" Was this what she thought it was? Did he know-

"Wouldn't it kill you to know, I have in very good authority that my  
son and your best friends are now lovers, have been so for quite  
some time. Did you know that?"

The pain hit her. She knew Lex and Clark were close, but closer than  
her and Clark? The heartbreak filled her. She thought she had ridded  
herself of these love sick feelings the day Clark had told her he  
was gay. But then, she thought that the power of their relationship  
was strong enough so Chloe would be the first to know. She had  
always been the first to know. She thought she'd always be the first  
to know. Apparently not.

"I don't believe you." She bit out, "Clark would have told me."

Lionel tossed pictures onto the table, showing her his cards.  
Images, shared kisses between Clark and Lex in the park, the two  
entering into the Penthouse, a ragged Clark leaving it the next  
morning, more intimate kisses in various places. All out of place,  
all so extravagant. All so completely fake.

Vengeance ran through her, how dare he try to turn her against her  
best friend. Her mind was immediately made up.

"You surprise me, Mr. Luthor. I hadn't realized you've been doing so  
much research." Her voice a forcefully airy.

"Give me everything you know about Clark, and I'll give you that  
Pulitzer- or whatever else you may dream to have." A beautiful  
offer, one a lesser journalist so enthralled with the Pulitzer would  
take. 

Chloe looked at him, frowning slightly, making her unhappiness  
known, "Just because he might be an ass, doesn't mean I want him  
dead."

Lionel laughed, the first sign of something other than his usually  
mad businessman demeanor. "Chloe. It would look bad if a businessman  
such as I were to kill a noble man such as he. I can't go around  
killing reporters just because I don't like them."

" No ties, no strings? After it – no contact? No blackmail?"

" Chloe, my reputation must be exaggerated. I would never do such a   
thing, unless in dire situations. This is just for learning   
material. Such a strong, independent person could ruin the world as  
we know it. I want to prevent that, save him from himself. No harm.  
Just control."

"I-Alright." She had signed her soul to the sea witch, dressed in  
the form of a businessman. Already she felt the curls of the eels  
holding her down under the water.

----

No more robberies took place for another two months, so the  
backburner story was shut out from the scene. Once simmering, now  
cold. Or- that's what they told Perry, who was a stickler for the 48  
hour nonsense. 

Hanging up the phone, Clark slide over to Lois, whispering, "I think  
I might have a lead-"

Bright brown eyes looked up at Clark, "Random tip?" Her voice  
sounded doubtful, superior in judgment. She still thought Clark had  
no idea what he was doing.

"No- that guy? Joseph Gate? I got an interview with him. Lex set it  
up. I think he might have just said Lois Lane-- you're more well  
known." It was rushed through the bustle of putting on a jacket.

A look of disgust ran through Lois' features. Even her hair seemed  
to deflate a little. Turning back to her work, she scoffed, "Luthor?  
Why don't you just jump in front of a bullet? Actually, that's  
probably what he's having you do."

Lois never let the hate go, in fact, it may have been building  
throughout the past months. She even seemed to be hating Clark more,  
for whatever reason.

"He's not that bad-" He attempted to say, but Lois was having none  
of it. Even if they had known each other since their early teen  
years-- Lois and Chloe were cousins, and Chloe thought it would be  
wonderful to have her two favorite people meet so they could all be  
friends and have their own newspaper—Clark would never understand  
Lois, or Chloe come to think of it.

"You can go alone." Final. He has been dismissed, and off he went  
alone.

He might as well not have gone at all, because Gate did not show up.   
However, on the table where they were supposed to meet he left a   
note:

"Snlz Rob"

----

"I'm just confused what Snealz has to do with any of this. He's been  
our source for years. I wish I could talk to Chloe but I have been  
out of sorts with her lately."

Lois looked at the paper, analyzing it- looking at the shorthand,  
seeing something, anything, that would help her.

"Maybe it doesn't mean anything. How do we know Snlz is Snealz?  
Maybe Luthor put it there to keep us off track." She dropped the  
paper back into Clark's hand, "I suggest trashing it."

Clark looked at her, really seeing how much this story had  
transformed her. Transformed everyone really. He had set aside a  
long burning hate that had stuck with him for several years, Chloe  
had become more reasonable her works, sticking to less dangerous  
stories, and Lois had let a hate divide itself between her work and  
rational. He could not say the change was for the better.

He tried again, talking aloud, helping his mind absorb the  
information, trying to look for a different side to this puzzle  
piece, "Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe it means Snealz robbed his  
place? For what? Insurance? He was in debt, but then how would Gate  
know this? Maybe it was part of a conspiracy? LuthorCorp was looking  
into buildings in that area, paid people to rob the areas-- getting  
rid of the business, allowing him to buy the land up. Why that land?   
Property is expensive, maybe to lower it down a bit?"

Lois looked up again, sighing and coming back to sit on Clark's  
desk, "Clark? Does any of that make sense to you?"

" We have seven robberies. All pertaining to that area. No traces,  
one kidnapping. It's weird."

She had found some leads, which would tie Luthor to the robberies,  
but she still needed to meet up with a few more sources. So, maybe  
Lois should fill Clark in on her information? But the slight lull of  
the Pulitzer tugged at her heart. She could bare to lose some  
brownie points with Clark if it meant she got her story. Partners  
were only partners when they needed to be. No, she decided to keep  
the puppy reporter on the one subject that pestered him the  
most, "That kidnapping is weird. Chloe's been completely mum on it,  
it's rather frustrating. Has she mentioned it to you?"

As yes. The sore subject with Mr. Clark Kent. The communication  
between them had become that of an old friend you accidentally bump  
into. Awkward hellos, and freeing goodbyes.

"Mentioned? I would love to have heard from her at all. Lex told me  
she probably is getting over the shock, and the kidnapping is  
finally hitting her, and to let her come out and seek me. But, well,  
five months? I don't know." Clark sighed.

Check. Point. Match. Lois had won this, and now, less worry about  
the underdog stealing her lead. Even just having a byline for this  
wouldn't be enough- it was hers and hers alone.

----

"You don't want to do this." Lex struggled against the knife   
pressing into his throat, slicing so thinly only a sliver of blood  
escaped, trickling down his neck. The beat of his heart speed up,  
and for the first time he was really scared for his life. The  
funeral march sung in his head, and he wasn't even sure his Hero  
could save him.

"Mr. Luthor orders, sir." A drone, simple and obedient. The man had  
no free thought, having it been destroyed through pressures. He  
would prove himself, he would live for something. Snealz would be  
proud. Snealz. Snealz would forgive him.

----

"It is time. In twenty minutes, send the message. He'll arrive, and  
I'll grant you your reward. You have been a very good source, Ms.  
Sullivan. Most thorough, most agreeable as well."

" My name will serve no connection to this. I'm here for the story  
and nothing else."

" I admire that."

" Just remember it."

---

The drugs were injected through a vein, and although he was still  
awake, he was more docile and less dangerous.

Dragged below a building, the dark corners of the street familiar  
and so very dark. The shadows casting down upon him and his  
kidnapper. Only through the halls did light shine, did some kind of  
lighter tone fill his mind. And hope! 

There was Chloe, standing tasseled and tired. She must have been  
kidnapped too, through whatever they both had gotten into; she  
didn't looked drugged- she must have been here for hours. Her mind  
would be clearer for thought. He tried rushing toward her, only to  
be sharply reminded of the knife threatening his throat. 

And suddenly, his vision darkened, black dots formed in his eyes, he  
fought it off, coming back from his dilemma to see Lionel behind  
Chloe, directing her with a wave of his hand. 

What was going on?

"Ms. Sullivan, I think it may be time for the third member of our  
party to join us, don't you think? Why not give him a call. Ah wait,  
I suppose he is the fourth. Lex, I would like to meet the new and  
improved you."

An eerie melody, as if the wind had whispered through the enclosed   
room, sang slowly, and out of a corner came a six foot monstrosity,  
completely bald, in a black suit, tucked with a white shirt, a  
button undone at the top, a relaxed posture, blue eyes glued  
straight to his brothers, a carbon copy of Lex. 

---

Snealz watched his friend, coming out of the shadows for the first  
time in several months. He knew there were some things Taylor  
wouldn't tell him, refused to mention. There were some things that  
Snealz knew and refused to mention. Their broken friendship had  
nearly torn them apart. No longer were the two of them the business  
partners they had dreamed, but rather broken men. They were  
destroyed by the pressures of society, and now there was no saving  
them.

Even Joseph Gate, once full of so much optimism and candor, had  
fallen to the perversions of Lionel Luthor. An honest man from  
Smallville, Joseph had meant the big sharks in Metropolis,  
innocently believing a fresh new start possible. After suffering  
through a long line of minute business, Joseph had taken a loan from  
Luthor, believing interest would be enough to keep the head shark  
satisfied. No, Joseph had been the first to receive the offer to  
sell his building, and he had been the first to refuse. He had not  
been safe since.

No, three innocent men taken by the ties of the schools of sharks   
haunting Metropolis.

And now, Taylor had committed the greatest crime. Rushing off to  
ameliorate these trappings, to save them all from these sharks, to  
save them all from the impeding shadows- Snealz knew what had to be  
done.

---

For the first time since knowing Lex, Clark had not been immediately  
let through to his office at LuthorCorp. A little worried, Clark  
tried again. Still nothing.

So maybe the impromptu lunch had been a bad idea. He began walking  
back to the Daily Planet, enjoying the brush of clean air.

Nothing amiss, except no less than a minute later, an urgent text  
message from Chloe telling him to meet her at Gasper's ASAP.

Immediately, Clark called Lois. A story was a story, and he was her  
partner.

---

The haunted room, filled with ghosts of the past, a laboratory of   
deception and impurities. This room was death. No forgiveness, no   
acceptance. A decayed room, built on hope and joy and friendship,   
reduced to death and unyielding, hopeless truth. No man in this line  
of business was safe. No man who let himself be manipulated by work,  
letting go of his or her own feelings, was safe. Business wasn't  
safe, not without hope, not without feeling. Not with these tyrants  
running around, cutting corners, dreaming of the greatest,  
forgetting why they want to be. Forgetting friends and family for  
greed.

"Are you surprised?" Lionel laughed, a cackle, breaking through the  
wind's melody- besmirching it with an off-key note. "I've been  
working four years for this, and finally. A perfect son. Are the  
drugs wearing off? Ah yes, made just for your mutation. If you will,  
Mr. Birk, I would like to get this over before any heroic acts  
interrupt us."

The living corpse prepared the man for death, his chilling fingers  
jutting in wild jerks, knotting the rope as tight as possible.  
Finally pinning him back to the shadowed walls.

By tying it now, in front of Lionel rather than in the car ride  
over, submitted Lex to his father, showing him just how much power  
he didn't have. He was never going to be free. He had just been  
demoted to a fish. Lionel was going to show him what happened when  
little fishes played with sharks.

So intrigued with the corpse's movements, the three did not notice  
the shutting and closing of a door, the silent footsteps moved among  
the shadows. The hero of the story was here, and he would prove  
himself, just as Birk had wanted, but could yet do.

Lionel stepped to Lex, giving him a kiss on the cheek, as a loving  
father would do to his child who is being sent off to war. "I have  
hated you from the beginning. A sickly child turned into a bald  
freak. It was quite ironic when you escaped off to Smallville- the  
place you lost all your hair. Of course, with all the surgery I  
doubt you remember that. Did you know you met Mr. Kent when he was  
yet a babe? No, I suppose the two of you were fate. I think you'll   
appreciate knowing he is on his way now; Chloe has just called him.  
"Don't count on him saving you. I know of his powers." 

Lex struggled against the restraints, looking at Chloe, only seeing  
the dead confirmation in her eyes. "No! You wouldn't do that,  
Chloe." A bored looked, combined with a raised eyebrow met his  
plead. "What did the sick fuck do to you?"

--

A slight shift in shadow caught Birk's eyes, he recognized the  
figure, knew it was potentially dangerous, but Lionel did not  
command him to take the figure out. He had no orders to follow. He  
must do as Snealz wanted. Snealz wanted.

--

Lionel laughed, "When will you learn? Friends are only as good as  
their worth. Do you want to know Clark's worth? A Pulitzer and the  
truth. What a liar, that nice boy has become."

A voice behind him, standing next to the unmoving clone, spoke for  
the first time, "How did you find out about Clark?" Inquisitive.  
Journalistic.

"A dear Ms. Martha Kent, actually. With Jonathan's failing health,  
she was forced to take a job, and she found on in Metropolis. I took   
quite a liking to the women, very fierce as most redheads are. Quite  
wonderful, I think I may have actually loved her. Alas, the affair  
was short. Too many secrets attacking her, one too many may have  
spilled. Just the benefits to passion- losing your inhibitions. "

Lex was exceedingly glad Clark was not here to hear this.

"Of course, her husband found out, and a week later he died. She did  
not come back after that."

No, when Lex got out of her alive (and he would, he told himself,)  
Clark would never know about this.

"And I thought I would never get the chance to know all the super  
boy's powers – and here, Chloe entered my life. She filled me in on  
the rest. Which bears the question- how did you find out? I can tell  
you know, maybe have always known."

Lex spit at him and Lionel slammed him face into the wall. "Such  
insolence! Yes, you will be better." Stepping back, Lionel took out  
a gun, "Goodbye, dear child, you won't be missed."

The shot resounded through the walls, cracking them more, shattering  
a few glass pieces.

----

"I'll meet you there- okay? Go- Chloe might need you." Not to  
mention, the planet was nearer to the Gnoles than LuthorCorp, but  
she did not add that.

Clark nodded, even if Lois couldn't see it, "Alright. Just please,   
stay safe. If anything gets too rough, get out."

Having no intention to do as he said, Lois simply  
replied, "Promise." 

----

"I hope your life finds meaning, for I have lost mine, and even as I  
lay dying, I realize this is in vain. I have given my life for a  
Luthor." Taylor Birk broke off in hysterical laughing, the faint  
light above shinning on him, freeing him from his past. His laughing  
rang through the room, singing his irony, until he choked on his  
blood. Although the laughing ceased from his throat, still the room  
rang his tale. 

"No! No!" Awoken from his shock, Snealz moved from his hiding  
position, dropping to his friends. "I was- I didn't want-" He  
stopped, clarity running through him. Had Taylor not jumped in front  
of the gun, he would have himself. Indeed, he had intended to.  
Perhaps it was not Luthor at all who Taylor had taken ,the shot  
for, "My friend, my dear friend." He wistfully began.

A hero, Taylor had died. A hero, Taylor will remain.

Another hero, one less corrupt, one suffering fewer battles, broke  
through the door. "Chloe!"

" No! Clark- get out." Lex shouted, recognizing the voice, wrenching  
at his binds wildly. "Chloe told him your secrets- get out of here  
before-"

Chloe had covered his mouth. Petting it gently. "Lex. You're ruining  
the fun."

Clark, unaware to what he walked into, one dead body among two  
Lex's, his best friend, and two businessman, albeit one former. And  
apparently his best friend had betrayed his secrets to Lionel  
Luthor.

He looked at Chloe, trying to find a reason to doubt this betrayal,  
a reason to shout she was still his friend, a reason not to feel a  
horrible sickening feeling.

She had been emotionally unattached for five months, maybe the  
kidnapping had scared her so much to confine in Luthor? Maybe he had  
been spending too much time with Lex? Maybe he just didn't know her  
as well as he thought. No, no. Chloe was his best friend, she had to  
be. There was a reason. There had to be. She couldn't do this.

"Ah- The green rock, sir?" Chloe teasingly asked, stirring up  
roaring feelings within Clark, even thought she knew very well  
Lionel didn't have one.

Luthor grinned, understanding Chloe's question, admiring it. "Ah,  
yes. A rock we just won't need. A hero is a hero. Even with a dead   
friend, the hero will not leave without the body."

" Lex," he addressed the clone, "take this time to leave. Wait at  
LuthorCorp. I do not want any unnecessary harm coming to my son."

Chloe smiled, "Would you like the knife now?"

The pain grasped Clark and pulled. What was Chloe doing? He had to  
believe, he had to.

Another darkened figured entered the room, followed shortly by one  
other. All of this went amiss with the drama of the next statement.

"No, actually." Chloe's face dimmed, taken by surprise. Lionel   
grabbed something in his jacket, pulling it out on display, "I have  
a bomb."

A simple statement, with chaotic reactions. Clark immediately  
started forward.

"Nuhuh. The underground is tapped to a connecting bomb, if my feet  
are pulled from the ground, if I am removed from the bomb in my  
hand, or if I feel threatened and feel the need at push the trigger,  
the bombs will all go off. And we all will die."

" You'll die too."

" I have a clone waiting for a brain transplant if anything wrong  
should occur. Or has anyone been wondering whatever happened to  
Joseph Gate? Experiments can be so handy. As long as my brain  
survives, I am alive. You, however, won't be."

Lionel clicked something in his jacket, "Five minutes and counting.  
Such a track to ride just for a more obedient child."

The time was ticking, and Clark looked around. All these people  
would die if he didn't do something. He couldn't let this tyrant  
win. They hadn't come so far for it to end in these decaying walls.  
The stench of death already reeked its sorrow, no more would suffer  
for this man. No more would lose themselves to the business of  
death. He had to do this, all it would take was one snap of the  
neck, no more problems, no more. So why wouldn't his feet move?

Clark couldn't kill him. He wouldn't. The sickly sweet boy was  
really too sweet to take a life. Once again, protecting a friend  
matter more than anything else. No harm could come to Clark, he was   
invulnerable, as proven through various trails. It wasn't until Lex  
entered the scene that the trouble really started. Of course there  
was something that had to be done. There was no going back from  
this.

One person's sins were their own. She protected Lex and Clark, and  
now she would no longer need to protect them. Taking the slender  
object out of her hand, she steadily raised it, allowing her arms to  
stop shaking and aiming. She pulled the trigger.

She saw the bullet speeding toward the target, she felt the harsh  
pull of the gun, fighting against her balance, fighting against her  
choices. The spark of the gun, shone deep in Chloe's eyes, and  
perhaps now, perhaps now this would end. It had come to this, and  
finally, finally, maybe a certain peace would begin its rhythm.

The death was less dramatic than it was suppose to be. The bullet  
slammed into Lionel's head, spewing the blood across the floor, even  
the crimson smear looked tainted. No light shinned on his soul.

Lionel was dead, and he would not be missed.

---

The ticking noise of the clock woke everyone from the shock.

A heavy boulder lifted itself from Clark- and Clark found himself in-  
between crying and laughing, "I knew it, dammit Chloe, don't ever do   
that to me again!"

Ralph Snealz, not ready to tempt the ticking bomb, shouted, "C'mon,  
let's get out of here-"

The door slammed shut.

All four heads turned to see Lois Lane, dressed to kill in a  
stunning black outfit, "Well damn. I didn't want it to come to  
this." She pointed her gun at Clark, "But I can't have you, even if   
you are my partner, stealing my Pulitzer from-"

Another shot rang out, this one unforgiving with no regrets. "C'mon,   
let's get out of here. I'll grab Ralph, what a blubberin' mess." The  
gruff, short stature of Joseph Gate walked into the room, heaving  
Snealz over his shoulders. "Well, c'mon. There's a bomb, don'tchya  
know. Gez, kids these days."

He walked out of the room, leaving the rest to trip over themselves.   
Chloe grabbed Lois, who she noticed had not been killed, but rather  
shot with a rubber bullet. Relief flooded him.

Clark ran to Lex's side, snapping the ties and lifting him in his  
arms, "One day, you'll have to explain to me what the hell happened   
here. And how the hell you knew about my powers."

Lex rolled his eyes, "Shut up and save me."

Clark, noticing the thirty-two seconds on the bomb, shot out of the   
building, meeting with Chloe, Joseph, Lois, and Snealz- who- Gate!

Still playing Mr. Hero, Clark quickly assessed, "Gate is still in  
there. I'm going-"

"He's dead-" Joseph – was that Mr. Joe? -- having not known him  
other than a fellow businessman, had no feelings for him.

"So he doesn't deserve a proper burial?"

Immediately setting up his mind, Clark put Lex down, acting on  
impulse as he kissed Lex, passionately promising his return, but  
giving a first and last kiss if he did not.

"NO!"

Shooting back into the ticking building, the only thing that  
followed Clark was the sounding Boom of the bomb, covering the  
protesting shout.

----

It was raining, as appropriate in the setting. It was raining a new  
day, washing away the lies and bitterness of the months, years,  
decades past. This was a new beginning. The death, they promised  
themselves, would not be in vain. There would be a better day  
awaiting. There would be a rainbow on the parting clouds.

There would be more music, there would be that peaceful rhythm so  
desired for.

The rainy clouds were bright, pure white and shining down on them.  
There was no darkness on this day. Even the ground seemed to be  
accepting this sacrifice as a gift rather than a burden.

Dressed in black, but having a clear shine to his face, Ralph smiled  
down on his friend, tossing him a rose. They were friends to the  
end, understanding each other through the betrayal, through the  
broken promises on both sides. Ralph robbed a building, giving  
Taylor a conscience to what he was doing, the consequences of his  
actions. Taylor jumped in front of a bullet, giving Ralph a new  
chance to start over. Friends, they were, to the end.

Silently in the background, Chloe stood watching the proceedings,  
understanding the trial of death and betrayal. Joining her, Clark  
walked with Lex, both having been attached by the hip since the  
bombing. 

With the loss of a father who never loved him, who had cloned him,  
who had been willing to kill him, it would take awhile for Lex to  
recover from the tragedy, but recovering he was. The business world  
had tried to murder his soul, but he survived, and he would fight  
every morsel against it.

With Clark at his side, his Hero in so many ways, the first good  
thing in his life, the first flame that did not extinguish when the  
oxygen ran out, that stuck through to breath the oxygen awaiting  
around the bend.

Calming walking up behind, Clark put a hand on Chloe's shoulder,  
startling her, clarifying her attention. She stared into Clark's  
eyes, the friendship, the familiarity; she needed to give him an  
explanation, one she had yet managed.

"I-" 

Clark smiled, tightening his hand on her shoulder, and pulled her  
into a hug, "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it. I didn't think  
you could."

Even in the moments of doubt, there was always hope, always the ring  
of true friendship in the back of his mind. There were things Lionel  
could not destroy. For all he may have loved Martha Kent, he could  
not destroy the love because he did not understand it. To him, love  
made a man weak. It was a weakness as well as a strength Lionel  
would never have had.

"It's just- Lionel knew about you, or something about you. I gave  
him false information, and he believed every word of it. Oh God,  
Clark, you're mom told him."

Lex tensed at his side, and Clark registered the information. "My  
mom?"

" She had an affair with Lionel, and it killed Jonathan. God. And  
then all the information he had on you. I couldn't be tell you  
anything, because Lionel may have been tracing my calls, and Clark I  
was just so scared."

The shock, the light betrayal on his mom's part. His mom, who had  
always urged him to say anything about his powers to anyone, had  
told the greatest monster of them all.

"You mean my mom? Martha Kent?" A comforting hand laid itself on his  
waist, pulling both him and Chloe to a group hug.

Lex kissed his cheek, "She didn't mean it; my father manipulated  
her. I didn't want to tell you. She's a good woman who was easily  
strayed by a shark. He's gone. It will rest in peace."

Chloe pulled away from the two of them, having received too much  
comfort in the past minutes, and began ranting in her usual form,  
expressing her emotions and bulldozing them. "I don't think I ever  
want to think about any of this again. Too much trust misplaced.  
Lois tried to kill us. Would have. Lois. My cousin. She was  
practically my sister." 

Lois' betrayal had hit Clark hard. As a partner, he thought he knew  
her better than Chloe. Perhaps a bit obsessed with a Pulitzer,  
perhaps a bit too involved with work. But to go so far as to kill  
for a story?

He wasn't sure he could ever write again, not without feeling the  
pain of Lois tugging at him, calling him back to a realization: no  
one was safe from the dehumanity of business. Once too caught up in  
the mechanical way of life, once too greedy, once too impersonal,  
business could destroy anyone. Success could never be more important  
than life. Life is success, success is not life.

Arms tightened around him, and perhaps business wouldn't destroy  
everyone. Looking at Lex, Ralph, and Mr. Joe, they had survived.  
They understood there were some things more important. Even Chloe,  
having been giving an easy path to success, chose to be true to her  
friends. Perhaps not all was lost.

Perhaps the chiming church bells where singing of a new day.

---

LUTHORCORP TERMINIATED

Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan

Lionel Luthor, CEO of LuthorCorp, was reported dead Wednesday  
October 19th, 2008. In his dead, a trail of betrayal and  
destruction.   
Luthor blackmailed several building owners, including Ralph Snealz,  
owner of Bell's Kitchen, using the basement for illegal experiments.  
Another owner, Joseph Gate, being blackmailed through a loan granted  
in 2005, threatened to bring the story to the press. Luthor hired  
two men to rob him as well as several other business owners' who had  
refused Luthor's offer. With the increase in crime, the business  
dwindled, and many owners caved to Luthor's pressures.  
The increasing inhumanity stopped the lead scientist, anonymity  
granted, in the experiments, but under intense threats he began them  
again. These experiments included creating a clone of Luthor's son,  
Alexander Luthor. Finally succeeding, Luthor trapped his son and  
Chloe Sullivan down in the laboratory.  
Planning to shoot his son, only the bravery of the lead scientist  
stopped the intending bullet. After the failure of his, the crazed  
billionaire dentate two bombs, one beneath the building and another  
in his hand.  
Fighting for their lives, Sullivan shot the billionaire and the  
group rushed out of the building, leaving ten seconds until the  
building exploded.  
The clone was later found dead outside the building, having been  
shot with a gun, the owner later identified as Lois Lane.

---

"Do you think it was wise to leave out Lois' part in this? Doesn't  
the public deserve to know the truth?" The crazed Lois Lane had   
landed herself in Belle Reeve, raving about her Pulitzer.

"Lois is too renowned for it to not have caused uproar, I think the  
shock was too much for her anyway. I don't think she'll be out of  
there for a while. No harm done." Clark replied, stealing his   
boyfriend's attention with a kiss. "Either way- it looks rather  
perfect there."

Looking at the framed story, centered in Clark's office among  
various pictures of Chloe and Lex as well as himself, Clark felt  
rather relieved than happy that the story was finally published.  
Already several follow ups were being planned, exposing other  
businesses involved with the cloning.

Magically appearing, Chloe bonked Clark on the head, ruffling it and  
pushing him over. Looking at the frame, she announced, "I think I  
like it better in a silver frame- wanna switch?" She laughed,  
happier and more at peace than she had been in the past half year.  
It was a good polish on her. Jokingly, she added, "Think we'll get a  
Pulitzer?"

A groan of irritation and of displeasure flooded Clark. "Don't even  
joke about that. We got the truth out, and now- now, well, now we  
eat."

The three had decided against any more restaurants, opting instead  
to cook their own meals. With two industry-dependent people as Chloe  
and Lex, neither could last very long.

"I think I'm going to let you two go- I still have a story to write.  
You know how it goes." Still a workaholic, but still permanently  
faithful.

A random thought hit him, and Clark turned to Lex, "You never did  
tell me how you knew about my powers."

Lex made some motions with his hands, "A certain hero saved me some  
years ago. Made me stay in Smallville. Ever recall a crazed water  
mutant wanting to rape drivers? And behold, a beautiful hero saved  
me; I saw everything. I had to know more." He did not elaborate,  
not that Clark ever expected him too.

Clark would have been more ashamed about his blatant use of powers,  
but then again, his mom had yapped them all out to the Luthor Daddy  
anyway. "I should have left you alone with her, taught you and your  
snotty self that perhaps it isn't all fun and games. I probably  
would have saved a building or two."

Lex looked playfully affronted, "There was only one building, if you  
may recall." Lex closed his arms around Clark, looked at the framed  
story, "What are we going to do now?"

Plucking the hands off him, Clark turned and asked, making his voice  
serious and curious, "Ever want to be a waiter again?"

Lex pushed him, "Don't even joke about that. I'm thinking about   
doing something for humanity, becoming some kindhearted man or   
something. Taking after you."

Giving Lex an incredulous look, Clark laughed again, trailing out of  
the building, reminding Lex as they entered the elevator, "I don't   
know, what kind of kindhearted soul believes in – what was it?   
immolating a building?'"

" Look, Superboy, it got you out of Smallville, didn't it?" Lex  
granted, pushing the main level button, waiting for the doors to  
close so he could get out of the Daily Planet.

"Indeed, where ever would I be without you?" Clark murmured, kissing  
him again as the doors to the elevator closed.

Lex leaned away from the kiss, "Probably out rescuing some cows."

"Instead I get the fishes. And cats rescuing fishes. Strange cit-"  
Lex quieted his words with a kiss.

And perhaps the peace was a new murmur of its own.


End file.
